When Nelle Wychthorn was forced to sign herself away in marriage, she should have read the contract's fine print. Because she signs not with ink, but with blood. And that changes everything.
Season 1 'Of Crows and Thorns'
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Fiery Nelle, the isolat...
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What the hells?!
"I'm not a godsdamn possession!" I snapped, finally finding my voice.
"That's where you're wrong, little bird." Graysen shot me a dark look. However, though his gaze was hard, his eyes shone with something I couldn't quite place. Possessiveness definitely, but there was something else cutting through them. Under his intense stare, my pulse kicked and heat flooded straight to my core. I could barely breathe. I couldn't take my eyes off those pitch-black eyes staring right back at me.
Gods, what kind of power does he have over me?
Graysen turned back to Danne and I was able to suck in a lungful of air.
"Still haunting the gambling halls?" he asked my friend.
Danne's warm eyes had gone icy. "I like to play. There's no harm in that."
"Only if you have enough to play with."
"Crowther—" Danne started to say, his nose twitching.
And Graysen honed in on the gesture. I couldn't see the grin I knew he was suppressing, but I could feel it radiating off him. "Leave us."
"Look here—"
"Right this fucking moment, Pelan. Before I do something you'll regret. Again."
I sent Danne an apologetic look. His freckled jaw clenched and his cheeks flushed with anger.
Then I felt something—a touch. My astonished gaze slid sideways to find Graysen threading a hand through my hair and twirling a lock around a finger. "I want to have a word with wifey here."
Wifey?
What the fuck?!
"Nelle, I hope to see you later." Danne gritted out, then shot Graysen a look of hatred before spinning on the heel of his loafers and walking away.
"Wait, Danne," I called out. But my friend kept walking and disappeared behind a container. I rounded on Graysen, rising on my tippy-toes, as high as my short frame could get. Scowling into his face, I shoved an angry finger at him. He only found my response to be amusing and grinned back at me.
"You're such a fucking prick. Why do you do things like that? Treat people like shit?!"
Mirth danced in his tone as he rubbed the lock of hair between his fingers as if judging its silkiness, "I do what I like. Haven't you learned that yet, wifey?"
Gods, have I ever.
I hissed at him, bunching my fingers into a fist. I really wanted to smack that stupid grin off his face. "Stop calling me that!"
He cocked a thick eyebrow. "Wifey? Would you prefer something else? Honey?"
